


The Convention - Goodbyes (Day 10: Hurt/Comfort)

by drownedinblissfulconfusion (tundraeternal)



Series: The Convention [10]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Conventions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:28:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tundraeternal/pseuds/drownedinblissfulconfusion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30-Day OTP Challenge</p>
<p>A succession of Cockles ficlets, set at a fictional convention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Convention - Goodbyes (Day 10: Hurt/Comfort)

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I do not personally know any of the people I'm writing about. As far as I'm concerned, these are fictional characters in some alternate universe, which exists someplace between our own and the French Drop universe, who happen to bear superficial resemblance to our boys (and girls). Their conversations, personalities, and innermost thoughts are generally extrapolated from plausible reality, occasionally made up from whole cloth.

Misha watches silently as Jensen folds a shirt and throws it into his bag. His eyes follow as Jensen marches over to the sink, knocks his toothbrush onto the floor, swears loudly, and leans on the counter, rubbing a hand across his face. 

When Jensen looks up at the mirror, he sees Misha standing behind him, and gives a half smile. 

Misha rubs a soothing hand over Jensen’s back. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, man. Honestly, my head’s a little weird. Coming down from the stress of performing all weekend, maybe? Lack of sleep catching up with me?” He turns and flashes a cocky grin. “Guess that one’s mainly your fault.”

Misha’s eyes warm as his concern fades. “Mmm, it was worth it though. Hey, when’s your flight leave?”

“Seven.”

“You’ve got a few hours still, then.” Misha gives him a coy look. “I bet I know a good way to relieve that stress.” He steps forward, fitting himself between Jensen’s legs and pressing him back against the counter. 

Jensen groans as Misha nuzzles at his throat with soft, open kisses. But it’s when he fits his hands to Misha’s hips as though they belong there that he finally realizes what’s really bothering him. Misha stills as he feels Jensen go tense.

“Mish?” he asks tentatively.

Misha rests his forehead on Jensen’s shoulder briefly, before pulling away to look at him, question in his eyes. 

“I, ah-- What is this?” Jensen gestures from Misha to himself.

“What’s... this? Us? In a hotel room, making out?”

“I mean,” he rubs his hand over his face again, stares at the ceiling. “Jesus, I’m _married_ , I shouldn’t have to go through these kind of talks anymore.” 

“Ah, I see. What’s ‘ _this_ ’.” Misha sits down on the end of the bed. “What do you want it to be?”

Jensen sighs and sits beside him, carefully not touching. “I wish I knew. I mean, we’re friends. We’re really good friends.”

“And we had sex.” Misha’s staring at him with those brutal blue eyes. 

“Sex. Yeah.” He can’t look Misha in the face. 

“And we liked it. A lot. And, personally, I want to do it again. But, do you?”

“Are we having an affair?” Jensen blurts. 

“I don’t think so. What makes it into an affair? If it’s clandestine? Secret? Conducted in cheap and dirty hourly-rate motel rooms?”

“Jesus, Misha, can you be serious for once?”

“I’m being serious! Do you feel guilty? Do you wish we hadn’t done what we did?”

“I don’t--” His head is so messed up. How did he turn from a down home Texas boy into a guy sitting in a hotel room discussing his extramarital sexual conduct with another guy? He looks up at Misha, who’s trying hard not to look hurt. It breaks Jensen’s heart a little bit. “God, of course I don’t wish we hadn’t. And I don’t know why I feel guilty. Danneel... Danneel’s amazing. If I ever looked at another woman, she’d break my balls, but she’s different about guys. What about Vicki? Is she okay with, ah, this?” They’re back to ‘this’ again.

Misha laughs. “Jensen, I’m married to a woman who wrote an instruction manual on threesomes. It’s not what you’d call a traditional marriage.”

“Oh. So, ah...” Jensen hates himself for asking, but he has to know. “You do this sort of thing a lot?” He holds his breath waiting for the answer, and doesn’t even know what he hopes it will be. Does he want this to be special? Isn’t it safer for him if he’s just one of a crowd? 

“Not really. Well, not anymore.” He turns away from Jensen, finally; looks at the wall like it might give him his next line. Jensen watches him in profile. 

“Not anymore?” he prompts, when he feels like the silence has had long enough. 

“I mean, when do I even have time for it?” Misha smiles at him, maybe a touch too brightly. “You know what our schedules are like.”

“Yeah.” Jensen lets out a breath. “Yeah, I guess this is a pretty convenient opportunity here.” 

“Jensen, for fuck’s sake! You’re not a convenience!” There’s anger behind his eyes, but Jensen ignores it.

“Isn’t that what you just said, though? You’d love to screw around more, _but who has the time_?” Jensen wishes he’d let well enough alone when he’d had the chance, but it’s too late for that, and now his stomach is sour with the feeling of having been used. 

“Maybe I just didn’t want to tell you that you’re all I’ve thought of for years! _Maybe_ I thought you might not want to deal with that! Maybe I didn’t want to say that I’m getting too old to enjoy meaningless sex, so I thought I’d finally try taking a chance with you.” He hunches in on himself, glowering. 

His words hit Jensen like a sledgehammer, knock the wind out of him. Turns out he did want to be special, after all. He reaches over and runs his fingers through Misha’s hair. Misha shuts his eyes and tilts back against the touch. 

“Mish, I’m not gonna lie to you. Part of me was hoping if we just--just screwed, I could--I don’t know--get you out of my system.”

Misha slants half-lidded eyes toward Jensen. “And did you?”

“No. No, I don’t think that’s gonna happen.” He massages the back of Misha’s neck.

“But you wish it would.”

“It would be so much simpler. I’m a simple guy; I don’t know how to do this.” He takes a deep breath. “But I want to. God, Misha, I want you.” He wants to reach across the distance between them, but he isn’t sure how. 

Like Jensen had willed it, Misha turns and kisses him quietly, stroking a thumb along his cheek. “We’re not having an affair. We’ll have a fling. It’s totally different.”

Jensen grins against Misha’s mouth. “Oh yeah? Totally different?”

“Completely. We’re lucky, you know, we live a few different lives at once. We film; that’s a separate world from anything else. We break, we go home, we turn into normal people with wives and kids and dogs and picket fences and whatever else you want. And then for a few months we spend all our weekends in hotels all over the world. And at hotels, we have flings.”

It’s just what Jensen needs. It’s not sneaky, not messy. It’s simple and delineated and it makes sense. And it sounds like fun. “It’s perfect.” He kisses Misha again. 

“Hey you know what the cool thing is about being a rich, famous actor?” Misha asks, doodling designs across Jensen’s stomach with his fingertips.

Jensen can think of several cool things, but can’t tell where Misha’s going with it. “What, pray tell, is the cool thing about being a rich, famous actor?”

“No reason you can’t cancel a flight last minute and fly out the next day instead. Especially when you know a guy who happens to have his hotel room booked for an extra night.” 

“It’s true, I don’t really have anything planned for tomorrow.” He’s sure the dog sitter wouldn’t mind an extra day’s pay. And Danneel’s not due home until next Tuesday anyway.

Misha turns puppy-dog eyes on him. Jensen, laughing, puts a hand across his face and pushes him down on the bed. “Alright, alright! I’ll call the travel agent. Now go back to your room and stop distracting me! I’ll meet you up there in fifteen minutes. 

Misha looks like a kid on Christmas. As he bounces off of the bed, Jensen snags him by the wrist and pulls him back for one more kiss. 

“Mish, I’m really glad. About this ‘this’. Fling.”

Misha grins. “I’ll see you upstairs in ten.”


End file.
